Postmarked Birmingham
by ballistics belle
Summary: "Will you do it for me, Marshall? Will you check the WITSEC files for me? I know you'll do what's right …for me." What if Mary's father really was in WITSEC? Would she want to know? Would it even change anything at all? post 'Who's Bugging Mary'
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: **So this is the first In Plain Sight story that I've decided to publish. It starts off at the end of _Who's Bugging Mary?_ After she speaks with her father's friend at the prison. What if her father really was in WITSEC? Would she want to know? Would it change anything at all?

"_Ladies and Gentlemen as we begin our final decent into Sunport International Airport we ask that you please return your seat backs and tray tables to their full and upright positions…"_

Marshall scrubbed a hand roughly over his tired face as he watched the city of Albuquerque emerge from the nothingness of the surrounding desert. It had been a long day (well, two days now) and he was ready to crash. He had caught the redeye out of Newark and was just now touching down back home in the early morning hours. Eleanor had been kind enough to book him a seat in economy plus to give him more leg room to stretch out but Marshall remained restless throughout the entire flight.

He was worried about Mary—had been since for awhile now. This whole mess with Brandi and O'Conner had taken an unfair toll on his partner. The younger Shannon had made her choices but it was her big sister that always seemed to suffer the consequences.

Marshall knew that Mary was still having a hard time dealing with the events surrounding her kidnapping. She steadfastly refused to let anyone in, including him, even going as far as to beg him not to even ask about it. The lack of information was hard for a guy like him who always wanted to know facts. But even harder than the not knowing was being forced to stand by and do nothing while his partner struggled to keep her head above the water.

Mary was so close to completely breaking and Marshall had to fight every protective instinct in him to keep from reaching out and pulling her into his arms to shield her away from all the things that threatened to tear her apart. He wanted—needed—to save her, if not from her family then from herself. Mary could have a martyr complex at times but Marshall refused to let her take the fall.

'_You walk around as if you're somehow responsible for the way she turned out. And I'm scared to death that some part of you thinks you deserve some part of this. That allowing yourself to go down with her will somehow make things right. But it won't. You'll still feel guilty and she won't even appreciate the gesture.'_

It wasn't the most subtle approach but the time for caution had passed. He had to get to her before her family could dig their claws in and drag her down with them. If Mary had heard his plea, she never acknowledged it. But she certainly got his message later on the balcony. It physically hurt him to listen to her cry so miserably against his chest. Underneath all of her badass bravado, Mary was still that little girl who missed her daddy.

Grabbing his carry-on from the overhead bin, Marshall shuffled off the plane and out of the airport. Despite his exhaustion, his first stop would be the office to check in with Stan and hopefully catch up with his partner (though he doubted she'd be in this early). He hadn't liked leaving Mary along with everything that was going on but the trip had proved important and Marshall had enough faith in her to keep her cool in the heat of the moment. As a Marshal, 'keep calm and carry on' wasn't just a saying but a way of life. So he knew as long as she had work to do she'd be okay. It was how she would react after everything was over that had him more than a little nervous.

"Marshall! How was your trip?" Stan was already in the office when Marshall slid his badge through the door and had stopped to greet him as he entered.

"Enlightening and exhausting." Marshall sighed and set his bad down on his desk. "Is Mary in yet by any chance?" He added, trying not to sound too anxious. He had clearly failed when Stan gave him a knowing smile.

"Nah. I gave her the day off, you know, let her regroup before getting back into the saddle again." Stan explained.

"Right." Marshall drawled, clearly disappointed.

"You should take the day too, Marshall. You look terrible." Stan suggested.

"Yeah well they don't call it a redeye for nothing." Marshall shrugged, caring more about a certain blonde at the moment than his own appearance. "How is she?" He inquired. It was Stan's turn to shrug.

"Ah you know Mary, she's a tough girl. She'll be alright. Now go home Inspector. Get some sleep _before _you go hunt down your partner." The older man ordered with a pointed finger.

"Got it boss." Marshall raised his hands in mock surrender. Stan just gave him a look before heading into his office.

Marshall turned and was about to grab his bag and go when he caught sight of Eleanor by the coffee pot. He felt bad about the accusations Mary had made towards the older woman the other day and he thought that maybe he could try and smooth things over before he could get Mary to apologize.

"Good morning." He greeted as he came to stand near her.

"Oh good morning Inspector. How was your flight?" Eleanor responded in her usual pleasant way.

"As good as a six hour redeye can be. Thank you for the leg room though." Marshall replied. He shifted awkwardly on his feet as he tried to figure out how to best approach the subject. "Look, Eleanor, about the other day with Mary—"

"There's no need, Marshall." She stated as she waved him off. "Mary already apologized for her behavior the other day and I accepted it. It's behind us now." Marshall just stood there stunned for a minute before stuttering

"Mary…apologized…?"

"Yes. It was actually very sincere and heartfelt. But I do appreciate your attempt to try to patch things up. You're a good friend to her." She smiled and then as she turned away from him she added under her breath "Maybe better than she deserves."

Marshall resisted the urge to sigh and bit his tongue instead. He wished other people could see the side of Mary that he saw. The warm, funny and even sometimes sweet person that she could be when she trusted someone enough to let her guard down. Maybe then they would find her worthy of their care and kindness. And maybe then they'd understand why he stayed by her side. Instead, Marshall just gave the office administrator a small smile before turning back to grab his bag before heading for the elevator. Pulling out his cell, he sent Mary a text to let her know he was back before he headed out to his truck and started home.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: **Thank you all for your support and response to this story. I was a little nervous at first but you guys are awesome.

Mary felt numb. Like she had short circuited after the emotional overload of the last few days and now all that was left was a restless humming in her veins. She couldn't even process her own thoughts without them ending up in mangled heaps in her mind. It was all too much and yet not enough at the same time. All of the old wounds left by her father's disappearance had been reopened only to be left bleeding and slightly infected once again.

'_Daddy…if this is you…I don't need you anymore…' _

It was a lie just like everything else regarding her father. There were the lies he told her, the ones she told herself and the ones she told her partner. _Marshall._ The poor guy was so desperate to help her and make her pain go away but she just couldn't let him get close enough to actually succeed.

Mary needed the pain. It was the only thing that kept her going at times. It was her crutch. Without it, she had no excuse for her anger and bitterness towards the rest of the world. Marshall had tried numerous times over the years to 'fix' her and failed every time because of her stubbornness. But something was different this time. Mary could see it written plain as day across her partner's face when he spoke to her. He didn't want to end her pain because he was just a genuinely nice guy who wanted to help her, he wanted to end her pain because _her _pain was hurting _him _too. Her suffering tore him apart and she had made him helpless to stop it.

Mary's gut churned at the thought. It was bad enough that she lied to his face about her father but knowing that she was inflicting pain on Marshall was simply unforgiveable. She wanted—needed—to apologize, to confess everything to him just to make that tortured look on his face _go the fuck away _but she didn't know if she could face him without turning into a blubbering mess again.

Her phone clattered nosily on the counter as Marshall's name popped up on the screen. Mary froze as it continued to vibrate for another minute before going to voicemail.

"_Hey Mare, it's me. Just wanted to check in and see how things were going. Call me."_

Mary could tell he was trying to come across as casual but she could hear the underlying tension in his voice. _Which you put there by ignoring him all day _a bitter voice in her head reminded. She sighed and pressed the phone to her forehead.

"Come on Shannon, stop being a puss. You can't avoid him forever." She muttered to herself. Knowing it was now or never, Mary quickly grabbed her keys and slipped back out of the house. After everything she had put him through recently, the least Marshall deserved was the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: **So the title and idea for this story came from the song "Postmarked Birmingham" by Blackhawk. It fits the situation pretty well and I've posted some of the lyrics below.

_I recognized the writing on the plain white envelope. I wondered where she'd wind up before she called or wrote. The answers in a circle with the word love on a stamp, postmarked Birmingham. …So the day she left she made it two hundred miles south. Did she settle there? Did she mail this note on her way out of town? What chance is there to find her when the only clue I have is postmarked Birmingham. _

Marshall only had three things on his agenda for the day: a shower, sleep and a conversation with Mary.

He had showered as soon as he got home to wash off his travels before crawling into bed to literally sleep away the day. It was after six by the time he woke and a quick check of his phone showed no missed calls or messages to suggest that his partner had even received his text.

_Ignoring me already Mare? Not gonna work this time. I'm not letting this go. _He thought to himself as he got out of bed and headed down the hall to the kitchen to find something to eat while he contemplated his next move. Marshall knew he could only push Mary so far before she recoiled like the wild animal she could be and bit his head off. He had to find a way to be there for her without her catching on to him.

"Easier said than done." He huffed out loud as he put the final slice on the turkey sandwich he had made.

Instead of grabbing the plate though, he glanced at the clock on his stove and then picked up his phone again. He would try one more time to contact her today. They would see each other tomorrow at work but Marshall knew there was no way Mary would talk to him about any of this in that setting. Not with Stan and Eleanor lurking around. She would just brush him off and pretend like it wasn't a big deal that she had broken down in his arms. So he hit the first number on his speed dial and waited for her to answer. She didn't. Marshall wasn't terribly surprised by this and left what he hoped was a casual sounding voicemail.

"Hey Mare, it's me. Just wanted to check in and see how things were going. Call me." He dropped the phone back on the counter and picked up his plate and glass of ice tea he had poured and headed into the living room for dinner in front of the TV.

It was halfway through a special on the Presidents when an incessant pounding started at his front door. Marshall only knew one person with that knock and he jumped up off the couch to answer. Mary stood on his front step looking no better than she had when he had left her two days ago. Her jade green eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles indicting that she probably hadn't slept since this whole mess started. Blonde locks were tied away from her face in ponytail that was threatening to fall out at the slightest movement. Overall, she looked like hell and Marshall's heart skipped a few beats as he recognized the hint of distress in her eyes.

"Mare-"

"I lied to you." Mary declared before he could even finish greeting her. Marshall's brow shot up in surprise.

"What?" He replied, stepping aside slightly to let her in. Mary acknowledged the invitation by storming her way into the house. Marshall shut the door behind her and followed her path into his living room. "Care to explain what the hell you're talking about?" He inquired as he tried to remain calm. There were so many ways this conversation could go and very few of them seemed to have a good outcome. Mary sighed and crossed her arms over her chest in a clearly defensive pose.

"The other day when you asked me if I was in contact with my father, I told you I wasn't…but I am…sort of." She confessed all in one breath and he watched her physically brace herself for his reply. Marshall was stunned. He had suspected from her reaction that she was holding something back from him but to hear her admit that she had flat out lied to him was a bit of a punch in the gut.

"You're in contact with your father?" He repeated slowly as if he didn't believe the words. "How?" He demanded.

"Letters, dating back to my childhood. He's written to me numerous times over the years but I have no way to write back. There's never a return address." Her voice was soft, almost like a child explaining why the lamp was broken. It brought Marshall's anger back down to mere confusion.

"How does he know where to find you?"

"I don't know. I've never been able to figure that part out. But he knows things, like what I've been doing and who I've been around." Mary shrugged. Marshall ran a hand through his hair and collapsed back onto the couch. She remained standing in front of him.

"Have you tried to trace where they came from?"

"I tried to track the postmark a few times but it's a dead end. I have no way to know if he lives there or if he's just passing through." She explained with another shrug.

"So you have tried to look for him. Another lie you told me." Marshall snorted bitterly as his irritation rose again.

He wasn't mad at Mary though. It was her bastard of a father that had his blood boiling. It was bad enough that the man abandoned her and forced her to become an adult at the ripe old age of seven but then he kept her hanging onto the hope that he was out there and that someday it might come for her. _"I just can't believe he would want his daughter to suffer the way you're suffering"_

Marshall's gut clenched a little at the memory. _Oh Mare I'm sorry, I didn't realize he was the one making you suffer. _Mary noticed the pained look that had suddenly appeared on her partner's face and her chest tightened a little. She took the few steps across the room and sat down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Look, Marshall, I didn't keep this from you because I wanted to. I did it because I knew the position it would put you in. If you knew I had contact with a wanted fugitive, you would have been obligated to tell the FBI and I didn't want you to have to do that to me." She explained. Marshall stared back at her, hurt still brewing in his baby blue eyes.

"You didn't trust me." He declared.

"What?!"

"You didn't trust me to have your back and protect you like a good partner would." He repeated with an edge to his voice. Mary's eyes went wide at the accusation.

"No! Marshall of course I trust you! But I know your sense of obligation and strict adherence to the rules. If I told you then you'd have to tell the FBI. You'd be bound by your duty as a U.S. Marshal, something I know you take very seriously." She exclaimed.

"The only obligation I have is to you." Marshall growled. Mary sat back slight at the sound of his voice. This was a side of Marshall she almost never saw—the dark, angry, brooding man that scared her slightly. "And if I understand you correctly, these are unsolicited letters from your father and would be of little to no use to the FBI in finding your father. They are your personal property, not their evidence so why would you think I would hand them over to those assholes?"

"Marshall…"

"How could you think I would do that to you? That I would betray your trust like that?" Marshall jumped to his feet and began to pace as the blood began to pound in his head. Few things bothered him more than someone doubting his loyalties to his partner—especially if she was the one in doubt.

"Marshall, stop. Don't do this, alright?" Mary insisted, getting to her feet as well. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you." She sighed. He muttered something under his breath. "What?"

"I said that's my job. I'm the one who's supposed to protect you." He declared.

"Marshall," Mary carefully reached out and placed a hand on his arm to stop his pacing. "I don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself…most of the time." She added. Marshall shook his head.

"It's my job, remember? One I cannot quit." He reminded, his voice shaking slightly. Mary's mind instantly flashed back to a dirty gas station and a bloody water bottle.

"You're my keeper." She whispered. He nodded.

"It's my job to protect you from the world and the world from you." He repeated with complete sincerity. "It's a job I take very seriously and one I will never quit." Mary just stared at her partner for a long minute as if she was trying to decide something.

"You promise?" She asked, needing that final reassurance.

"I promise." Marshall answered in a tone that left no room for doubt. Mary took a deep breath and looked her partner right in the eyes.

"Then there's something else you need to know….."


End file.
